The Masks We Wear
by LoliTurk
Summary: Tim disguises as a runaway to get closer to a new vigilante that's not opposed to lethal force. As one mask is created, another will return from the past. Will the two of them remain strong or will their secret identities tear them apart? Pre-UtRH Jay/Tim
1. Chapter 1

Jason took another shot of whiskey, doing his best to think over the deafening rock music in the club. People danced and gyrated to lyrics about sex and violence. A blonde man on stage was screaming nonsense like the insane. Good thing the crowd was too drunk or high to care.

The place was a hell-hole, but at least he wouldn't be there long. His weapons contact was a no-show but at least the booze was good. He ordered another drink and downed the moment it hit the counter.

It burned like paint-thinner.

Being back in Gotham after all these years was like seeing a parent just out of rehab. It was wonderful to see them sober, but you knew it wasn't long before the relapse. So he would enjoy it while it lasted.

This was a makeshift welcome home party and nobody came. He briefly wondered if any of his old friends would recognize him, if they were alive of course.

At the other end of the club, something ugly was brewing in a black leather booth.

There was a yelp as some creep was trying to feel up a boy that was barely old enough to shave. He couldn't have been more than fourteen. A hand went up to squeeze his thigh as the middle-aged man asked how much his dignity was worth.

The boy was new at this, and god-damn did he look scared. Jason didn't think he had even kissed someone before, let alone bend over for some sick fuck. His first time shouldn't be like this.

Jason's gut clenched in disgust and anger. It had been a long time since he lived on the streets but the story still made him sick. The boy had probably run away from a living nightmare, only to find filth and shame instead of salvation.

He had gotten lucky back then, and he wonders what would have happened if Bruce never found him. He likes to think that his thief skills would hold out until he was old enough to get an honest job, but he doubted it.

Sooner or later he would have run out of luck and land in juvie or in a dumpster somewhere.

The teen yanked his hand away but the John wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. A pill was dropped into a glass of cranberry juice and something in Jason snapped.

He got up and said in his brightest tone, with a perfect fake smile to match. _"There you are! I was looking all over for you!"_ The boy looked confused as the former Robin took his arm and kept talking "C'mon, we're gonna be late for Tommy's party."

The John frowned, slinging an arm around the boy's waist and tried to pull him back. Damned if he was going to let the prettiest lay all night get taken away by some jock. "Baby doesn't want to leave just yet…" His other hand slid into his jacket, hinting at a weapon.

Jason snorted. The black barrel of a very-real semi-automatic pressed to the creep's jugular and he hissed "Really? 'Cus I think he does."

"_C'mon, pull a gun on me. I'll blow your brains out and say it was self-defense." _He goaded in his head, yearning for an opportunity to rid the world of one more lowlife.

Batman couldn't do this, he'd just lock the guy up for a little while. What a shock it always was when they did it again as soon as they got out.

He was disappointed that his suspicions were correct; the man was a coward but not a murderer. The thought of actual physical harm took the creep down a few notches and he sat back down. Drugging and raping a minor was no big deal, but threaten _him_ and that's where he draws the line.

Disgusting.

Jason gave the teen a tug and led him outside to a parking lot. The night was clear, so at least they had more than the streetlights.

"Thanks for helping me…" The boy said sheepishly when he was released, not knowing if he was really out of the fire. The last one didn't have a gun.

He looked over at him. The teen was a little older up close, but the make-up and school-boy look wasn't helping. "What's your name? Your real one, I mean." He asked, trying to assess the damage.

The boy flinched at being looked at so closely, toying with a lock of black hair to avoid meeting green eyes. "…It's Tim." He admitted.

Jason pulled out a card he had snagged from a restaurant and scribbled down a phone number on the back. "Whatever that guy was going to pay you, it's not worth it. I know what it's like to-"

Tim jumped back like the man was poison. "Wait a minute, you think that I'm-? I'm not a rent-boy!" He screamed indignantly, his face turning a deep shade of red.

"Don't you know what kind of scum hangs out in a place like that? Are you trying to get yourself killed?" Now Jason was embarrassed, just because you assume the worst…

"You were there, and you're not-" The teen offered and he was cut off. "And what if I wasn't!" The former Robin screamed back.

He growled in frustration and gave him the card anyway.

Tim muttered in protest "I don't-"

"Keep it." He urged. "If something happens, like you need a ride, someplace safe to crash, or you just want somebody to talk to. Call me, I won't judge you." Jason threw a leg over his motorcycle and the teen looked…grateful.

Poor thing was a runaway, this was probably the first piece of honest-to-God kindness he had in a long time. He wanted to offer the kid a ride home, but doubted Tim had one. Even if he had a place to stay, it was too much of a risk to be alone with some guy he had only just met.

Before the boy could refuse he stuffed a thick wad of twenty's in the kid's pocket. It wasn't much, but it would hopefully keep him off the streets for a few weeks. "Get a cab and you better not throw the card away, got it?"

The teen nodded and waved goodbye as he drove off.

Tim took a communicator from his pocket and a voice on the other end asked what happened. "I didn't make contact with the buyer, and there was some trouble with a weirdo that that tried to cop a feel."

Bruce normally wouldn't have let him walk into such a dangerous place, but 'Matches' has been far too visible lately. They had gotten word that somebody's been stockpiling an arsenal and weeding out the bar's less-savory regulars. Luckily, the mission wasn't a _complete_ bust… "A big guy with a gun stepped in before I could blow my cover."

Oracle didn't need to know the nearly-got-raped part of the story or how kind the stranger was. Good people were in short supply these days, and a part of him prayed it wasn't a set-up.

The red-haired woman chimed in. "Did you see what model? It might be the killer."

"He was carrying a Fountainfield Armory 9mm handgun, it's a perfect match." Tim fiddled with the thin piece of cardstock in his pocket, already planning his next move. "Good thing he gave me his number."


	2. Chapter 2

It had been almost two weeks since that night at the bar.

Tim paced around his ersatz home. It was an empty floor of a condemned apartment building, junk had piled up in the corners. He had managed to buy it from its previous owner to help with his cover. With Bruce's connections, it didn't take long to draw up papers for a poor country boy that ran away from foster care.

All he had on the stranger was a phone number and a gun that was the same model as one that killed some local drug-dealers. Guns are mass-produced though, and it would take a much closer examination to see if it really was a match.

The teen checked his watch and flipped open a cheap cell. As if on cue, the downstairs shouting match fired up and he shut himself in the closet. He wanted the acoustics to be perfect as he slipped into character.

If he was the vigilante, then he should possess a strong sense of black-and-white morality. It would be easy to exploit. Paint up as a helpless victim and the man should welcome him open arms.

In truth, he felt guilty taking advantage of someone's kindness, even if it was intended to catch a murderer. But…

The way weapons and money were being shuffled, not to mention having some of their men being picked off. The gangs were on edge and looking for blood. If this wasn't resolved quickly, there could be a massive gang-war before summer.

Something was brewing in Gotham.

The phone number turned up nothing in a search, and he wanted to trace the call. Bruce said it was too dangerous to risk him finding out. Tim bit his lip as he dialed, he should have done it anyway.

The phone didn't need to ring twice. "Hello?"

The teen hesitated, not expecting such a prompt response. "I didn't think you'd actually answer." He confessed.

The stranger responded simply, reaching for a pair of scissors. "I told you I would." The older man was pleased to hear from him. Without even a last name to track him down, he might have spent the rest of his life thinking he was dead in a gutter somewhere.

"I know that but…" _Apologize, act vulnerable…_"I'm sorry, did I wake you up? It's really late and all."

Jason took a swig of cold coffee. The circuitry in his new helmet was giving him trouble. He would be up until dawn. "Nah, I'm just working on a little side-project." He muttered, distracted with this puzzle. Maybe if he put the battery over here…?

The teen ached to pry but it would be no good to tip him off now. "I wanted to thank you for the other day, mister-?" Tim hinted, hoping he would take the cue.

"Call me Jason"

Damn it, no last name. This was probably fake too. "Thank you Jason, for everything and…for picking up. I really needed someone to talk to right now."

The stranger had stopped working, suddenly very interested in what he had to say.

The sounds of a fight echoed underneath the apartment and he asked what was wrong. "There's always something happening outside, I keep thinking someone's going to break in." The rushed explanation left enough out to keep the man's attention.

Coat hangers clattered as the teen sat down, making himself more comfortable in the cramped space. "I get scared sometimes." He added pitifully, barely above a whisper.

The other line was suddenly very quiet.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't have anyone else to call." Tim began to panic, did he lay it on too thick? What did he do wrong?

Jason grabbed his coat and had it on before he even noticed. Where the hell was he thinking of going? He didn't know where Tim was and what was he going to do when he got there? It's not like he could adopt him and make him his sidekick. He's not like Bruce.

He came back to Gotham for one reason, to get revenge. Nothing was going to get in the way of that.

He flopped down onto the couch and lit a cigarette. Jason's abrupt question startled the teen. "Why do you stay there if it's not safe?"

Tim's hand wrung his jeans and he asked, flustered "Where else am I supposed to go? I-I can't go to the shelters because they check the missing persons' list and I'll die before I go back home."

The older man sighed deeply, he wasn't going to do this. He promised himself that he wouldn't. Why should he care? Millions die every day, what's one more?

But he couldn't walk away from a kid in trouble.

"Do you…?" He asked, unable to finish the words. _Ask me for help, damn it_. _I'll do it. _The older man fumed in his head. "I'll stay on as long as you want."

The teen knew he was going to offer him a hot meal and a place to stay. Guilt gnawed at his stomach, why was this man being so irrationally nice? He had nothing to gain from this. All the teen could do was choke out another "Thank you"

…

They had talked for hours, and Jason stayed with him until the teen pretended to fall asleep. He had given the older man his number to gain his trust. Or maybe he just liked hearing him talk. He ended up missing the check-in time with Bruce and got a scolding for that later.

Jason was rough around the edges and swore a lot, but he was nice.

Nice to the point of stupid.

He had taken him, some kid he met at bar, completely at face value. No questions, no suspicions, _nothing. _He only wanted to help.

Tim shouldn't feel guilty, right? It was the best lead they had and guns were hardly uncommon in Gotham, even for self-defense. So the suspicion against Jason was purely circumstantial.

_The chances of him being the killer are astronomical_, the teen convinced himself.

_Right?_

…

The next day, Tim decided to prove it.

"No." Bruce said flatly. Appalled, his adopted son would even ask a question like that. He didn't even know what this 'Jason' looked like. Where his base was, or any other important information. "I can't let you arrange a meeting, it's too soon." They barely knew anything about their suspect and he wasn't going to let the teen walk in what could likely be a trap.

It wasn't an uncommon tactic to lure in victims with the promise of warmth and safety. Tim's strategy worked by playing someone that's 'safe' to talk to, that meant putting himself in a vulnerable position. The vigilante was someone with a similar experience, thereby connecting to it.

The character was by definition, _weak. _Having weapons on him would ruin the illusion.

Tim put his hands on his hips and scoffed at the rejection. "You've seen the numbers moving around. If he's the killer, he _has_ to be getting outside help. You won't let me trace the call so send me in. I can find out who's working with him _and _geta motive."

He understood the risks but this is what he was trained to do. Besides, the faster they caught the vigilante the better. "I'll have a taser and a panic button in case something happens."

Bruce shook his head. "No, you won't because you're not going. Not until we have more information."

The teen eventually conceded with his mentor, agreeing that he was rushing into this. However, he excused himself after the discussion.

Alone in his room, Tim believed he was right. He had to prove Jason's innocence. The phone chimed as it turned on and the boy briefly asked why he was so quick to assume he was innocent.

…

Jason's phone went off in his pocket, but he couldn't reach for it.

At his feet, a dog of a man begged for his life. His skull was cracked in two places as the still un-named vigilante struck him again and again with the hilt of his gun. It was the man from the club. The former Robin was sickened to find out just how 'regular' his escapades were. The feeling was compounded by the fact he had a wife and kids of his own.

He allowed himself to be more brutal, more violent with this one. He had shattered the bones in right hand and snapped two ribs.

When he thought he waited long enough, Jason finally put a bullet through the man's head and answered the phone. "Sorry about the wait, I was kinda busy." He was breathless and the words came out as a smug purr.

The man's tone made Tim embarrassed for reasons he couldn't explain. "Jay…?" He asked, not sure of what he would get in return.

He wiped the blood onto his shirt and resisted the urge to brag. He doubted the teen would find the news at happy as he did. "I just got done doing some kick-boxing. It's a lot of fun, you should try it. So…" He leaned against his bike, debating the merits of getting a beer to celebrate. "…whatcha wanna talk about?" He asked, changing the subject.

Tim quickly remembered his plan. "I wanted to know if you were doing anything on Saturday, because if you didn't…maybe we could go to a movie or something."

The older man regarded the phone as an alien life-form. Did the kid just ask him out?

Nah, he was reading _way_ too much into this. "Sure, I'd love to."


	3. Chapter 3

Tim had always been the _responsible_ one of the family, the no-fun one of the team. He was a model sidekick that other heroes wanted to have at their side. Years of training and combat showed though each scar. The teen was proud of his ability and rightfully so.

But that responsibility was no less heavy.

His failures were struck down harder than anyone else's _because_ of the high standards placed on him. There was no room for failure and no one there if he needed help. Dick saw him more as an equal than a younger sibling, that is, if he was ever in town.

Bruce _was_ protective of him, but it felt like the smothering concern of a parent of a stupid child.

But there was someone that peeled away the heavy burden, allowing him to be…

Tim stopped for a moment to think. _More? Less? _Neither answer seemed to fit.

The teen stood outside the theater and watched the rain pour off the awning that shielded him. An employee offered to let him inside but he wanted to stay where he was. People and cars went past at a frantic pace and it was nice to just stand still for once. He would be here soon.

An expensive car pulled up and Tim could see his reflection through the shine. The color was so rich that it looked like somebody slit their wrists to make the paint. Jason slipped out of black leather seats, his tattered jeans and a t-shirt were a stark contrast to the surrounding luxury. They smiled at each other and didn't notice the downpour.

Tim was grateful for the blockbuster movie two screens down because if left them alone and private. The theater was pleasantly dark and his tension rose, but it was not from the thriller that flickered on the screen.

A tracer, smaller than a fingernail and hidden by a color-changing patch, weighs heavily in his hand. He pretended to flinch at a scary part and grabbed Jason's wrist. Less than a second later, he pulled away, imitating embarrassment.

The older man glanced over, and Tim looked away. Jason leaned in and offered his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. "There's nothing wrong with being afraid." He said with a smile, knowing how hard it could be to admit weakness.

Tim hesitated for a moment, wondering how much was safe to let go. He didn't expect how easy it was to lace their fingers together or how good it felt. The man's hands were rough and calloused from years of hard work that Tim couldn't place.

…

When the movie was over, it hurt to pull his hand away. It was strange being close to him because he was so…_familiar_. It was like reuniting with an old friend that you couldn't quite remember.

They walked out together, laughing a joke when a dark shadow cast over them both. Tim saw it first and jerked Jason back inside. The Bat's silhouette moved past just as quickly as it appeared. How much did Bruce know? He had told him he would be out with friends, but if he knew he was with Jason… Blue eyes searched the skyline for any kind of clue.

Jason gave him a nudge, saying "I think he's gone. C'mon." He took the teen by the hand and led him to the car, weapon-ready if Batman chose to reappear. In the safety of the vehicle they shared a quiet admission of guilt. The innocent didn't fear the Bat. The older man snapped the gun back into its holster, sighing "So…Big back-story time, would you mind telling me what that was about?"

Tim flinched, and thought quickly. If he played his cards right, he could get closer to Jason. Memories of why he was doing this dimmed to the background. He sunk into the soft seats, hearing the pattering of rain hitting the roof. It was getting dark. "_I can't forget why I'm here."_

Tim spent hours rehearsing the words, the gestures. "After my mom died, it was just me and my step-dad. He hated me." He had done the research and had written the story himself. "After a while, I couldn't take it anymore. All the screaming and hitting…and one day…" So why was this so difficult now? "I just killed him." He finished the story and felt disgusted.

Jason absorbed the information quietly, allowing it to sink in. He started the car and began to drive somewhere the teen didn't know. "No matter what anyone tells you, you did nothing wrong." He said after a few miles and Tim was shocked to hear him talk so openly.

It was the older man's turn to confess, knowing he had to give the boy something in return after a speech like that. But where to start? He was a Robin once, many years ago. He had come back from the dead but didn't know how or why. Better start talking and see what sticks. "I've killed a lot of people. Scum, mostly." _Great, scare the poor kid. Make him never want to see me again, but I had to do eventually._ "The entire drug war in Gotham's going to change. Dealers, makers, leaders, no one will be safe."

Tim cried out in horror, and covered his mouth like he was going to be sick. "Oh God…You can't be-! Tell me you're lying!" He couldn't believe the person next to him capable of something, or rather, he didn't want to.

Jason never turned away from the road, keeping his eyes fixed on a faraway goal. "I'm serious. I'm going to kill Batman too." He said coldly, vowing to finish the fight where it started.

The teen didn't understand any of this but he had to ask, barely choking out the word "Why?" He never saw this side of the man before and it terrified him. This person was mindlessly cold and as determined as a man looking for self-destruction.

The older man reached for a cigarette, "At sixteen, I was murdered by a psychopath. I should have been the last one he hurt."

Everything clicked into place. _You're…You're Jason Todd. How can you be alive? How did you even survive? You're my hero, you always have been. You helped me and I held your hand while we- _Tim had to stop, this was tearing him apart. Too many emotions were flooding his head and heart."Please…Stop the car…" He pleaded and the former Robin obeyed, pulling over to the side of the highway. The teen fumbled with the lock and stumbled out into the grass.

"_Bruce has to know about this_, _that Jason's-!"_ He dug his pockets, searching for the panic button. One press and Bruce would be there and…and then what?

Jason would be arrested for the murders, not welcomed home like the forgotten son. He wouldn't forgive the boy for lying to him, would he even like the person he really was? But if he didn't, Gotham would pay the price.

Falling to his knees, he started to cry. Tim was mourning his hero a second time, along with everything they could have been.

The once-dead man followed him into the grass and knelt down beside him when the teen started to sob loudly. He wrapped his arms around the boy and held him until there were no tears left to give.

In the older man's embrace, Tim was small and helpless. Here, under the stars with him, they were safe. Free for a few warm moments from Batman, the Joker, Robin, and the GCPD. Jason ran a hand through the boy's hair and the teen lifted his head. The former Robin gave him a feeble smile as if to say "It's not that bad." But it was and things were only going to get worse.

Tim leaned forward to press their lips together.

Things were going to get much, much worse.

The kiss was needy and frantic, as teen needed him on some strange subconscious level he couldn't explain. He didn't think he could save anyone but at least he could try. _"If no one else, let me have him."_

Jason pulled away shocked and confused, Tim only blushed. The older man tried to defend himself, saying "Look, I'm not like that scumbag. I would never, _ever _force you into anything you didn't…" He trailed off at the smoldering look the teen was giving him.

Tim climbed onto his lap and wrapped his arms around the former Robin's neck. He tried it again, this time he allowed the kiss to slowly build between them. It was gentle and wonderful, and everything it should be. The older man didn't fight back this time, instead pulling the boy closer. In a way, they were two lost souls looking for company.

The teen could taste the cigarette on his tongue and felt Jason's hands on his hips. Even now, the man held him like angel he was unworthy to touch and afraid to defile. If he knew how much he was being lied to or how he was being shamelessly manipulated, they would never be this close.

The kiss broke with a wet 'pop' and Tim had to remember to breathe. "You…" Jason started exhausted, but never finished the thought. With the delirium of romance fading, they realized that the side of a highway probably wasn't the best place for this. The older man helped him up out of the wet grass and back into the car.

Jason had just been driving around aimlessly before so it took some time getting back into the city. The spent the drive in silence, unsure of what was appropriate. Tim was cold in his wet clothes and wanted a shower. The older man noticed this and pulled up to an old apartment building. The teen wondered if this was where he lived. "Come upstairs and towel off before you catch a cold."

Tim thanked him and went upstairs, leaving his taser in the car.


	4. Chapter 4

The apartment was on the second floor and was clearly picked for its location rather than comfort. Tim found the place depressing to look at. There were military-grade boxes lining the walls with tools and open containers of instant meals on the table. A field surgery kit lay half open by a bottle of disinfectant while a police scanner crackled in the background. It looked more like the hideout of a soldier in third-world country than a man in his hometown.

Jason made a rush to hide any weapons or explosives as the teen went to dry off, quickly taking care of the sniper rifle by the window. He must look like one of those nutcases that try to blow up the town hall. He should have put up a poster or something, or would that make it worse? The older man made a quick rummage through the 'fridge and found nothing but beer and a few stale MREs. Maybe he should order pizza instead.

Oh god, _Tim…_What was he going to do about him?

He never meant to get the boy involved, but it was too late now. Somehow Tim had mistaken his kindness for something else and that _kiss. _Jason's skin reddened a little at the memory. He quickly dismissed it as stress and fact that he hadn't gotten laid in a while. The man wasn't like that, he didn't go after kids. What if-?

What if Tim felt like he had to do this?

His heart sunk into his stomach. It made sense now. All the calls, the urgency in being face-to-face, the sudden kiss that came out of nowhere…Tim was using him.

To him, Jason was protection and security, something he desperately needed. The teen couldn't survive on the streets of Gotham by himself, and was simply trading the only thing he had left.

His body.

In Jason's bed, the boy had less chance of getting raped or being abducted. His best hope was to find an older man who could take care of him until he could make it on his own. That is, if he even lived that long. The former Robin was heartbroken and hated himself for screwing this up so badly. He never should have given him his number, and never should have agreed to go on that date. He cringed at calling it that, _I was on a date with a sixteen year old boy._

Why did he kiss him back?

…

Tim ran a towel through his hair and didn't understand how anyone could live like this. The man was completely cut off from the world, and lived only for revenge. There were still so many unanswered questions. Bruce was probably looking for him by now, he was supposed to be back an hour ago. He didn't know how he could face his adopted father after tonight. They had to know the truth, but could Tim bring himself to say it?

The person Jason cared about didn't exist and there was no way he could react positively to finding out he was Robin. The teen saw the mirror and didn't recognize the face looking back. He scrubbed off whatever makeup still clung to his face and wanted to tear off the faddish clothing that was too tight to be comfortable. A tube of shiny lip balm was thrown into the trash beside him.

This Other-Tim was more feminine that the boy that stayed up late studying to be the world's greatest detective. This person was jealous and manipulative, he would rather let Gotham burn to the ground than risk losing Jason. Tim Drake-Wayne wouldn't let innocent people suffer, not when he could fight back. He was going to save Jason as Robin, as himself. The teen stood a little taller now, confidant in that he was going to win.

"_We'll see if he likes you half as much as he likes me."_ A voice in the back of his mind sneered. There was a tinge of doubt and Tim took the balm from the trash.

…

Jason was spread out on the couch with a cigarette in hand, his expression stormy. He didn't say anything as the teen sat next to him and waited for something to happen. "Are you mad at me?" He asked and the former Robin shook his head. Tim was confused "Then what's wrong?"

The older man breathed out a cloud of grey smoke and spoke in a tone that was far too calm "In few days, bad things are going to start happening around Gotham and I don't expect to survive it." He spoke about his death like it was nothing, like his own life was worthless.

Tim's face fell and he started to panic "No, you don't have to do this Jason. There has to be another option-" The former Robin took his hand. "Trust me when I tell you that this is something I have to do." He said as softly as you would to a lover. "That's why I want you to leave the city."

The boy's eyes widened and he tore his hand away violently, he wanted to hit the man for even suggesting something like that. "No!" He screamed, not believing the nonsense he was hearing.

Jason tried reasoning with him "I can get you new documents, a passport, everything you need to start over anywhere you want. You can go back to school and actually make something of your life instead of rotting in this hellhole." Why couldn't he just accept that this was the right choice? He wouldn't condemn the boy to waste his life chasing after someone that died years ago.

"I'm not going to let you destroy yourself." Tim vowed with his fists at his sides. The older man was stunned into silence, not expecting so much strength from the small boy in front of him. After a moment he started to laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world. "I'm afraid you're too late for that." He chuckled.

There was a knock at the door, and Tim asked who it could be. "Who knows, maybe Satan?" He joked grimly as he went to check. Well it would explain how he came back from the dead.

Tim didn't like that kind of humor.

Instead of the king of demons, it was a tall red-haired man with a stocky build. He burned with a slow kind of anger and helped himself in without being invited. Judging from the irritated look Jason was giving him, he wasn't going to. "I told you not to come here, what if somebody saw you?" The former Robin fumed, this was an argument they had before. The teen understood his concern, the man was far too well-dressed to be here and likely turned heads.

"You weren't answering your phone." said the red-haired man, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off his white suit.

Jason defended himself and crossed his arms over his chest "I was busy."

"With what?" He asked contemptuously, like the man had nothing better to do than serve him. They looked like they were coming to blows at any moment. For a fraction of a second, Jason's gaze waivered and gave him away. The redhead looked over to discover the previously unnoticed teen and his annoyance turned immediately to disgust.

Without warning, the bulky man grabbed Tim by the back of his shirt and threw him into another room. Jason screamed something as the door slammed, locking him inside. As the teen got back on his feet, he heard a gunshot.

"You _do not _touch him! Do that again and I'll take your head clean off!" The former Robin shouted furiously. If Thomas Elliot wasn't useful, he would have killed him ages ago. Thomas felt the same about him.

"Who is he? Is he a liability?" He demanded to know, their mission already had too many snags.

Jason was smug. "He didn't know anything until _you_ burst in, Tommy." The nickname was a cherry on the sundae of infuriating that was the dark-haired man. _"Who is he?" _Thomas repeated, seething this time. Years of hard work weren't going to be wasted because of one idiot.

He shrugged. "Some brat I picked up by the train station. He keeps the bed warm." The former Robin wouldn't dare admit what the boy really was, the man smelled weakness like a shark smells blood. Judging the nauseous expression on the man's face, the lie was a good one. Tommy hated anyone he saw as being beneath him, and a prostitute was as low as you could get. Jason with an underaged rent-boy was a case of scum attracting scum. This only confirmed his suspicions of the man being a whore.

Thomas was more civil when the topic was business. "The shipment never arrived." He said flatly.

The dark-haired man looked for another smoke. "The seller was a no-show and I'm already looking for a new one. You can tell Spooky that everything will be back on track before you know it. I'll even throw some extra stuff for his whack-juice as an apology." More nicknames, at least the whore knew how to keep a secret.

There were a few more minutes of dialogue that the teen couldn't hear through the door. Tim glanced around his makeshift prison, and found a desk with pieces of a red fiberglass mask on it. The bed nearby was worn but comfortable to lie on. Sheets were thrown haphazardly and they smelled like Jason.

Jason unlocked the door and the boy flinched like he was caught doing something he shouldn't. "He's gone now." The older man explained. Tim sat up and rubbed his eyes, asking "Who was that?"

He sighed and nudged the boy over to make room. "That's just Tommy, he hates everybody and likes to bitch at me." His tone went from lighthearted to serious in a moment, "I don't want you alone with him, okay? If you ever see him again, just kick him in the nuts and run."

Tim nodded dumbly at the advice, thinking _"I've mastered multiple forms of martial arts. I think I can handle one douchebag."_

Jason reached into his jacket and unhooked his holster. "What are you..?" The teen asked in confusion when the weapon was placed on his lap. "I'm giving it to you for your protection, I can take you to the firing range tomorrow if-" The teen handed it back, saying that he couldn't accept it. Guns went against everything Bruce taught him.

"_Please" _The older man pleaded, "Take it as a memento or something, it'll give me some peace of mind knowing that you've got something to protect yourself with."

Tim's stomach lurched at the idea of mementos, as there was already one too many in the cave. He took it anyway because it made the man happy but he promised himself that he would never use it. "You have to leave now, don't you?" He asked, not wanting him to leave his side, not when they had spent so many years not knowing.

"Yes" Jason said simply, the guilt was showing through. Tim Drake felt like he was suddenly yanked into the passenger's seat of his own body. He pressed Jason's hand to his cheek and softly cooed "Can't you stay…just a little longer?" The man's eyebrows rose and his guilt doubled at how worried the boy was for his safety. "Give me tonight, and I promise I won't ask you for anything else."

He promised he wouldn't do this anymore, Jason needed to know the truth.

The older man reluctantly kissed him, asking if this was what he really wanted even knowing the risks. The teen nodded, shyly saying "I want to be with you." Tim wanted to tell him about Robin, the memorial, and how much everyone missed him but the words were stuck somewhere in his chest.

As the former Robin nipped and kissed his way down his throat, a voice said _"I told you so."_


	5. Chapter 5

He wanted to leave.

In the dark, dingy apartment even as they kissed-he wanted to leave.

It would be easy to take Tim with him and get a house out west, so they could be far away from God and their nightmares. The two of them could pose as brothers until the teen was of legal age. Jason wanted to believe that if he loved him enough everything would turn out okay.

Maybe God could even forgive him.

Not for the people he has killed-_no, he understood that the moment he pulled the trigger_-but for being happy in this moment. As he held Tim's face in his hands and kissed him, he found a feeling of contentment he didn't know was possible. The anger that consumed most of his life had been set aside for the first time as he pleaded, _let me have this._

He was fighting to die and wanted one more happy memory.

Daylight had long abandoned them both, and streetlights did nothing to penetrate the heavy curtains. Eager hands found their way in the dark, exploring where mouths couldn't reach. Tim held on to the older man's strong shoulders, adoring the feeling a hot mouth on his neck. He welcomed Jason's advances without a moment's hesitation or protest, trusting the man completely.

One hand pushed up his shirt while the other gripped the headboard to steady his position. Their hips fit together beautifully, and the teen's skin warmed at the thought. As the former Robin left delicate kisses over Tim's stomach, it was the first time he thought of the boy as _his_. They stopped for only a moment to completely remove Tim's shirt, the fabric pulled away easily.

Calloused hands pulled his chest to the older man's awaiting mouth, taking a nipple between his lips. The teen gasped as the sensitive nub was nibbled on. Pain of sharp teeth on tender flesh only heightened his pleasure. Moaning as the other was pinched lightly between forefinger and thumb.

The man's tongue moved in slow circles, drawing out the moment as much as he could. He wanted Tim to enjoy this. A part of Jason wanted to ask if the boy had done this before, but was afraid of what might be the answer.

Tender skin under his palms felt jagged and wrong. He stopped abruptly at the unexpected feeling, pulling away from his partner to turn on a bedside lamp. A dull yellow light washed over where burns and blades left their marks on the boy's body. Realizing what he was seeing, the teen covered his shame with a sheet.

Tim was afraid of him and inched away as if expecting violence. Old wounds played in the light.

He grabbed the boy's arm gently, feeling the muscles tense at his touch. "I'm not going to hurt you." He urged in disbelief that he would even consider it. As if he would throw him out like a defective product. He drew the teen into his arms and reassured him that he didn't mind the scars.

The teen bit his lip, his guilt couldn't wait a single second more. It would completely shatter what they had made, but he had to know what was happening. "Jason, I haven't been honest with you as I should have been." Tim started to say, and wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

The older man shrugged, and said "Neither have I." It was front to make him feel better, but it was comparing an ocean to a puddle.

He found a crushed cigarette in his jeans and raised it to his lips. "You…You don't have to confess anything to me." _So I was right, he is using me. _He thought as a lighter flashed to life and quickly died. If it helped the boy live another day, he didn't mind what happened. He would swallow the pain and play along.

Tim's temper soured at how the man could dismiss his pain so easily. "How can you say that? I owe you-"

"You don't owe me a damn thing!" He screamed and the boy flinched again. Regret rose like bile in Jason's stomach. "I'm sorry, I didn't-" He was quiet for a moment to think. "What I'm trying to say is that, I don't want to lose you." He said wanting to hold onto the first moment's of peace he's had in forever. Green eyes flicked to the boy's face, and just as quickly turned away.

"Then keep me until the morning." Tim offered and the man arched a brow.

One last stay of execution, come the dawn they would lay all the cards on the table. They agreed that there would be no more secrets, no more lies from either of them. Maybe in that span of time they could forge something that would survive that much torture. He didn't need the lies or his 'other self' to keep him.

Jason was showing hints of shying away again as the teen lined his jaw with kisses. "You don't have to do this." He said again, giving him another chance to let the former Robin sleep on the couch. Tim smiled at him warmly, "I wouldn't be here if I didn't love you."

The older man's eyes widened at the unfamiliar words and he reddened slightly. He had never considered that possibility. Years spent assuming the worst and he was never so glad at the chance of being wrong.

The former Robin crushed their lips together in a passionate kiss. _Maybe this could work._ Their mouths parted with a reluctant 'pop' and he said "Despite how much I try to deny it, I can't help but love you too." Reservations melted like snow in spring, and the teen was strengthened by love and how soon he would be free of his guilt. They would survive this and nothing could stop them now.

The boy gave a playful smirk and hooked his fingers on the belt loops of his lover's jeans, suggesting they return to their previous position. The teen seemed to blossom before his eyes, becoming strong and confident in an instant. While he was surprised at this side of him, Jason was finding it hard to resist.

A hand followed a line down the boy's chest to rest on his stomach. There was a flicker of something akin to doubt as the man glanced at him. Licking his lips seductively, Tim took his hand and pressed it to the bulge between his legs. He laced their fingers together and ground his hips into his lover's warm palm. Turning his head to the side, he whimpered in anticipation.

Jason's mind went blank with want. The situation was as dangerous as it was delicious.

They kissed again, this time welcoming the feeling of the man's tongue fighting his own. The teen's zipper was pulled down and he helped his lover with the buttons. A deep blush spread over Tim's cheeks as fingertips traced the delicate skin of his shaft. He'd never been touched before and now to have his idol's hand stroking him…It was enough to drive someone mad.

His length twitched and swelled in his too-tight grasp, the speed wasn't fast enough to give him release. A line of precum leaked from the tip, soiling his lover's hand. Jason licked a drop off his thumb and the teen moaned. The wanted the boy naked. _Now._

Determined as ever the tight grey jeans were peeled off and angrily thrown to the floor. Underwear was next to go, his erection standing proudly without cotton to hold it back. The former Robin whistled at the sight. Creamy pale skin flushed nice 'n' pink, ruddy at the tip of a curved shaft.

Unconsciously, the teen spread his legs in anticipation. _"Jason, hurry…" _He pleaded as his lover reached for a bottle off the nightstand. He knew what was going to happen, but he couldn't be impatient and a little nervous.

The older man kissed a spot above Tim's curls as he popped open the lid. He draped a long leg over the man's shoulder and threw his head back when cold lube touched his anus. Two slickened fingers rubbed the puckered slit, teasing him before sliding the longest finger inside.

The boy screamed.

Jason blushed to his ears. _Well, that's one question answered._

He was ungodly tight and did his best to stretch him out before adding a second digit. Tim clenched the sheets with both hands and Jay swore that the teen could make someone cum just from the noises he made. The second one was where it started to hurt, he bucked his hips back against the invading fingers as his skin shone with a thin layer of sweat. The switch connecting brain from mouth must have been dislodged at this point as obscenities started to fall from the boy's lips.

"_Please…fuck me Jason. I don't care how just…I need your-Oh!" _

Jason sunk his teeth into a supple thigh to make him quiet. If he didn't stop, the boy would end up ball-gagged and duct-taped to the headboard. Dirty talk always bought out the fetishist in him.

The third finger was a hard push, and green eyes rolled back at the thought of such tightness around his engorged length. Tim was ready for him now, but he kept thrusting because he liked hearing him scream. He touched a tender place in the boy's body as he was rewarded with a face full of his seed.

Tim apologized, horribly embarrassed over losing it so early. "I'm so sorry! It felt so good and I just-" He grabbed some tissues to clean it off. But seeing his face like that… A shot of hot seed across his cheek and some had even dribbled onto Jason's swollen lips. The teen chose to lick it off.

He started with a fat drop by his eye and worked his way up from his jawline, moaning at the taste. Rosy lips were last and the man's self-restraint broke instantly. Grabbing a fistful of dark hair, he crushed their mouths together with a possessive growl. The kiss didn't last as the teen was thrown back down onto the bed.

Jason's hands made short work of his belt and he cursed at not undressing sooner. Damn it, he was still wearing his jeans and boots!

Tim toyed with the squeeze bottle and watched his lover undress with great interest. More scars followed with every article removed and black boxers were pushed down like they were on fire. He poured the vanilla-scented oil on his hands and admired the nude body in front of him.

Now the teen took pride in his fitness, but he wasn't the wall of muscle Jason was. He had the urge to see that in combat, but now wasn't the time. The former Robin was so hard it _hurt_.

The throbbing shaft was a painful purple with his testes rising to the occasion. The warmed lube barely helped as he generously coated the massive length. This was going to be either mindblowingly incredible or extremely painful.

The cap clicked shut and the former Robin pounced. Standing on his knees on the bed, he lifted the boy's hips and wrapped his legs around his waist. Tim screamed as his cheeks were spread and a burning rod was forced inside him. From the tip to the hilt, it stretched him as he wide as could go. Of course it _hurt_, but it was wonderful once he started moving.

In a few short thrusts, his lover found that sensitive place inside him that left him sobbing in pleasure. His length stirred to life at the sheer intensity of what Jason was doing to him. The man was a far cry from his earlier shyness, holding the boy's hips for dear life as he fucked him into submission.

Tim held on to whatever he could get his hands on as the bed rocked underneath him. He didn't know he would feel it so deeply inside_._ His former hardness returned with full force at the chance of cumming on the former Robin's chest. He was so close that he could taste it. His usual eloquence was in tatters as he tried to express what was happening to him. "I-I'm gonna…_Oh_, Jason!"

He apparently understood when he said "Me too, baby…Hold out a little longer…" Jason was surprised he lasted so long, a sixteen year old's ass shouldn't feel this good. The boy clenched him with every hit to the prostate and made him see stars.

Tim could take it anymore and came for a second time, even harder than before. Toes curled as he cried out, spilling everything over both their chests. His lover's grip tightened one last time as he came deep inside him, with a scream that matched Tim's volume. Jason wouldn't stop cumming until his seed ran down to follow the curve of the boy's firm rear.

They stayed in place, gasping for breath. The former Robin lied down next to him and rested his sweaty forehead on Tim's shoulder. It was sweet how Jason held him despite the heat. "Are you okay?" He asked suddenly.

Tim was confused, the tone came out of nowhere. "Of course I am-I mean, I'll probably be a little sore in the morning…" He trailed off, not sure what was going on.

The former held him tighter now, pressing him against his chest. "I just want you know how much I care about you…and that I love you." He sounded sleepy and was already starting to nod off.

…

Tim stretched in bed without even opening his eyes. Sunlight warmed his nude skin, and he couldn't remember the last time he slept in so late. All that time in the dark helps you forget these kinds of things.

Sheets bunched around him as he snuggled back into the warmth, wanting a few more minutes of rest. Lazily, he felt the sheets for his lover to ask for a good morning kiss. The bed was colder than it should have been.

He was suddenly wide awake, and saw that Jason wasn't in the room. Fear gripped him as he called out into the apartment. There was a chance he was wrong, but there was still no answer. Abandoning modesty, he left the bedroom and found the place almost empty. The weapons and ammunition from before were missing, along with the helmet Jason was working on.

Tim was cold, but not because of the lack of clothing.

The former Robin left no note for him, but there was a suitcase with his name on it. Tim crossed the room quickly to the object resting innocently on the dining room table. Inside there was the lease to the apartment, passports, credit cards, and information regarding overseas accounts. He was given a blank ticket to be whatever he wanted, to have the happy life Jason couldn't.

Tim swallowed the hurt and set it back down. He had to go back to Bruce and tell him what happened, but before that there were things he had to do. The teen was going to break his code of an impartial investigator. The only chance Jason would have in court was if certain things were omitted from the case. The first place he went to was the shower, and turned it on as hot as he could stand. There were medical tests his mentor could force him into.

He scrubbed away the man's sweat and seed from his body, daring not to miss an inch of skin. He refused to be the evidence that damns him.A purple hickey marred his inner thigh and while the memory was pleasant, he would need to find make-up later.

The sheets were burned in the tub with the help of a misplaced lighter and a bottle of machine oil. Papers were taken from the trash and burned along with it. It gave the illusion that the sheet was a red herring.

There was a piece of paper that looked more recent, scribbled out and crumpled into a ball. Sentences started and stopped, all saying things like _I hope you'll understand someday,_ and_ this is something I have to do. _One that wasn't scratched out was only two words long.

_I'm sorry._

Tim knew he shouldn't be upset for being lied to, not after everything that he's done.


	6. Chapter 6

Tim left Jason's apartment in a daze, his cell-phone weighed heavily in his pocket. At any moment he could have called

Alfred or Barbara to give him a ride, but he needed the time alone. Guilt had ripped him open and he dragged his organs behind him as he walked.

He stitched up slowly, eventually becoming well enough to walk into a store. The convenience store smelled like the same chemical he used to clean the apartment. Other customers watched him as he passed and the teen swore they that they could smell the sin on him_. _He tugged his jacket a little tighter around him and made his purchase quickly.

The last stop was a place he hadn't been to in a long time. Headstones that were long forgotten were arranged in neat rows and roses marked the graves of Thomas and Martha Wayne. This wasn't what he came here for.

Off to the side and still new despite the years, was the grave of one Jason Peter Todd. It was small and unassuming, no flowers or hints that this person was anything other than another member of the nameless dead. The security system here matched the one in the house, making it all too easy to disarm. Shovel in hand, the boy started to dig.

There were hints of who the man really was, but he had to know for certain. He had already left too much to chance.

A few feet down, he struck the hard coffin lid. The once-rich color and polish were faded from the elements, hinges were fused from rust. They broke apart with a few hits of the shovel's blade. He was afraid to look even as he pushed the lid back. There was no fetid stench of death to greet him.

It was empty.

White silk lining yellowed with age, where bugs and bacteria fed. Tim fell to his knees in mud and saw no signs that there was never anything in that coffin other than air.

A black car pulled up beside him and the boy didn't move. He had made a mistake and triggered the silent alarm.  
…

The empty coffin came as a shock to everyone. Bruce was going through the numbers, searching for the answer to what everyone was asking. _"Could he be alive?"_

Alfred took the news the hardest, afraid to even hope. The elderly man was the strongest out of all of them, bore the deepest sense of guilt. His skills were limited but his presence constant, allowing him to be the support they needed. Too many times he had cried for a lost son or grandchild, too many he has already buried.

Barbara didn't know what to believe. It seemed impossible, but in a world with superpowers and aliens invasions almost weekly, was anything truly impossible?

Bruce was the hardest to convince. Him, hardened by betrayals and false promises would not blindly believe. He has seen illusions, clones, and robots that could make people believe anything. Their surrogate father and mentor listened intently to every word Tim said. The world's greatest detective was not blind to the holes in his story. The largest being how an expert on surveillance could 'fall sleep' on watch and lose a wanted man.

The information was nonetheless, valuable. A plan was already being formed to stop this imposter.

"If his goal is disrupting the drug trade in Gotham, the obvious target is Black Mask." He said evenly, tense even in the lush armchair like a cat ready to strike.

Tim stood a little straighter, painfully aware of the upcoming conflict. "I'll go get my gear-"

"No" He snapped, "You disobeyed a direct order and in your carelessness, you lost the target you risked your life to find."

The teen held his fists at his sides and refused his punishment "You don't know him like I do and you can't stop me from leaving. The only question is: when do we leave?" He had run away from his problems far too many times in the past few days and he was sick of it.

Bruce didn't like being threatened by his own student, and frowned at the thought. He had seen this kind of brash anger before, but it was an event he never wanted to see again. He had told Jason to stay put, to wait for him to return before looking for his mother.

"Suit up, we leave in ten."

The moment they stepped outside, they knew something was wrong. A ripple had reverberated through the city and even the smallest drug pusher could sense something happened.

In a single hour, the five largest independent crime-lords bowed their thick necks to man known only as the Red Hood.

…

Jason's hands twitched for a phone that wasn't there. It was awful, but he forced himself to destroy the chunk of plastic connecting him to the boy he loved. He reasoned that he had to do it, break his heart to save him. It didn't make him any less of a coward.

He ran in the dead of night to avoid seeing him cry. One word, one sniffle, and he would have come running back. He wanted to check the apartment before he called it a night, to see if Tim had left yet. But what would he do if he was still there waiting for him?

A radio chirped in his ear as Tommy signaled about an incoming truck. The vigilante lined up the sights of his rocket launcher and fired, watching with cool detachment as the supply truck burst into a ball of fire.

He missed Tim already.

The driver was presumed dead on impact while the passenger, a knuckle-dragger, had survived and was running from the blaze. Jason switched over to the sniper rifle and killed him before he reached ten yards. He disposed of three more trucks before he drew the attention of his enemy.

One man wiped blood from his eyes and darted for the nearest building, blind to everything but the sniper on the roof. A lone batarang struck the runner down, making Jason miss his shot.

He let out a sigh of frustration and resolve, drawing his pistols as he stood. A grin spread under his helmet knowing there was no turning back now, he might as well go to hell with a bang. "'Bout time you showed up!" He shouted, turning to block a hit with a steel staff.

_Oh now this is cute…He sent the boy-hostage to get me._

The replacement looked like a bad joke, black replaced the familiar green-and-yellow he used to wear. This boy was a little older than Tim and had more fire in him than Dick ever had. The teen had a pained look to him, like Jason killed his puppy or something. He said "Surrender, I don't want to fight you."

The older man snorted, "Well, that's just too bad." He opened fire and spared a bullet in Bruce's direction as his sneak attack failed. He was fighting a war on two fronts, his former mentor at his front and the brat at his back. This tango had one partner too many.

Robin twisted his body and was given only a stinging line across his upper arm as opposed to a hole in his chest. A gloved hand slid into a black leather jacket to retrieve a small device, there were two options. It could be a harmless smoke bomb, or a very dangerous real one. If it was smoke and he failed to move forward, he would lose Jason again. If he was wrong, he would win a stomach full of shrapnel.

The device blinked once as it touched the ground, it was now or never. Bruce screamed at him to stand down.

Tim put every ounce of his strength into his legs to vault him through the gap. Smoke parted for him and heat flashed against the Kevlar wrapping his legs. He missed the blast by inches.

Jason expected to lose him easily, not expecting the boy to keep up the chase even after Bruce was temporarily blinded. The brat was lighter and more agile, following his target with a determination that rivaled the Red Hood's. The former Robin's anger grew with each complicated leap and dive, he just couldn't shake this kid.

With a throwing blade of his own, he cut the boy's line sending him crashing down onto a roof. If it was any other day he would have kept going, leave the kid to stew in his own failure. Today he was a monster, and broke the heart of the only person in the world who still cared about him. His replacement was going to die.

The teen held his staff at the ready, leather gloves creaking as his grip tightened. He refused to lose and said sadly "I promised I would save you, Jason."

The older man's eyes widened in disbelief, he was unable to grasp the truth in front of him. The staff was dropped at the boy's side as he walked closer, Jason took a step back. "No…" He whispered.

Tim unbuttoned the first two snaps of his tunic and pulled back the fabric, revealing scars the man knew too well.

This wasn't real.

It had to be fear gas, Scarecrow must have poisoned him as a joke. Tommy helped him make some kind of timed-release toxin. He was tripping and at any minute Robin was going to turn into one of those Japanese horror movies. Tentatively he tore off his glove, relying on feel when sight betrayed him.

The bare chest was warm to the touch, the jagged lines were every inch as inviting as it was last night. There were no spiders, no tears of blood, no hint of fear toxin. Tim kissed the spot on his helmet were his lips should be.

"You…you can't be…" He shook his head, backing away from his nightmare. "You lied to me." Denial was lifting like a fog. The teen was afraid of this and tried to calm him down. "I tried telling you but-" He pleaded, but was cut off.

Jason was screaming in fury "You _used_ me!" Realization struck him like a brick, they had _sex_. The only way he could live with the guilt was the idea that they loved each other. He hated this ugly _thing _in front of him. This monster tore the memory from his chest like an irreplaceable jewel from his grave and ruined it. The one joy he wanted to leave the world with was turned to filth.

"Good God, did Bruce put you up to this? Did he order you to sleep with me or was that just for fun?" He screeched, spewing as much utter revulsion as he could into each word.

Every word broke Tim a little more.

They had broken some of their highest commandments as an act of devotion for the other. The teen threw away the legal system he had sworn to uphold and Jason defiled the body of a child. Guilt and humiliation were equal.

The teen made a keening sound as tears burned his eyes through white contacts. He held his tunic shut, shamed by his own skin.

Jason must have heard him as his onslaught was restrained for a moment so Tim could speak. "I didn't want to lie to you" He said between sobs, "I really do love you and I-"

The side of Jason's helmet exploded into red plexiglass shards, the underlying circuitry was exposed. There was a moment of shock before he fell to the ground unconscious. He had been shot.

The teen ran to his side, screaming in horror. Blood started to fill the cracks in the shattered mask as he called for help.


	7. Chapter 7

Tim put a hand over his mouth and steeled himself against the sheer amount of blood. The teen held back his revulsion, thanking God and Bruce for his training to keep him from falling apart.

Jason was still breathing.

He touched his communicator, "Oracle-!" he cried out and stopped when he heard his voice crack with emotion. The last time she heard him do that was when his father died. "I need a medical helicopter at my location, I-I have a civilian in critical condition."

The red-haired woman gave a confirmation, surprised at what she was seeing. Bruce had asked her to keep an eye on the boy before they left. She sent out the call without question, doing everything in her power to ensure him the shortest possible wait-time. If what they said was true, Tim couldn't be Robin anymore.

There was a moment's hesitation before she called Bruce.

Tim could hear footsteps approaching, heavy boots crunching on gravel. He didn't need to ask who it was. Still, there was one thing he wanted to know. "Why?" He asked, not even turning around to face the man.

Wind whipped at the edges of a trench coat as the man said, "He became a liability." The barrel of a gun clicked at the back of his head and the teen sprung into action.

He struck his opponent with everything he had and used the distraction to vault for his staff. Catching it, he threw an electrified charge at the man's face.

He swatted it away with ease and mocked, "Pawn defends pawn, unaware of their own insignificance in life's grand play." His goal was the Batman and quarreling with these petty side characters was a waste. However, the corpse of his pet bird would make a most fitting 'hello'.

The muscled man hit his chest like a freight-train, striking blows that would crack ribs. Red Kevlar would leave him with only bruises.

Bullets marked where he landed as the teen had difficultly staying ahead of the onslaught. But, Tim refused to fall when so much was at stake.

Discipline and restraint were peeled back in favor of sheer brutality. Explosives and birdarangs were thrown freely, uncaring if they maimed. He was going to stop Tommy no matter how many bones he had to break to do so.

The man underestimated him greatly, allowing him to get in close. When a blast of quick ice knocked the air from his lungs, he finally fell. Tim stepped forward slowly and watched Hush struggle to breathe.

Frostbite was already damaging the delicate skin of his lips and nose, the bandages would prevent him from losing them completely. The chemical was far too dangerous to be used like this and Tim realized his mistake. Sorrow, fear, and anger churned inside of him but no matter how horrible he felt. He refused to kill.

The light betrayed him as streetlights cut the visage of a boy Thomas met the other day. _"You" _He seethed,"You're the boy from the apartment." Hate burned in him for the fool in front of him. There was no greater humiliation Hush could have suffered. To lose to the Batman was infuriating and understandable, but to be defeated by a child was a disgrace.

The teen spat blood onto concrete and ignored him, hearing a helicopter in the distance. The sound gave him hope.

He spared a glance over the body of his lover and ached at how still it had become. _Hold on a little more Jason, help's almost here._

Seeing his opponent distracted by the now-dead body of his former colleague, it was time to strike. The folds of the coat hid one more weapon and aimed it at the boy's head.

A dark shadow loomed over the bandaged man. The blackness became a figure and three blades cut through the air. Two imbedded itself in Tommy's shoulder, and one in his sliced through the flesh of his hand. Batman would not allow a second Robin to die.

The gun was knocked off the roof and Hush was out of cards. He needed to make an escape and it was far too soon for their final confrontation.

Robin adjusted the grip on his staff and said "You have nowhere to run."

Tommy shot a cruel look to the boy that stole his victory and his words slurred by lips turned blue: "Liars when they speak the truth, are not believed." With the final cryptic taunt, he ran towards the roof and leaped off the edge.

He was already gone.

…

It was hard letting Jason go. Medical professionals and police took him away and Tim was not allowed to follow.

The helmet took most of the impact, shattering when the bullet hit. His skull was cracked and help arrived before his brain started to swell. The teen didn't know if he was comforting or torturing himself by reading everything he could about the staff preforming surgery. Barbara told him they were very skilled and that the operation was successful. Chances of permanent brain damage were low.

She watched him fidget and worry, his concern for the man was plain as daylight. He paced the hospital hallway and checked the moss-colored clock every few seconds for an answer.

"Robin…Don't torture yourself like this, go home. It's not healthy." The redhead said as she tried to reassure him through their radio. This was bad, Tim knew this guy for what? …A week? And it's already tearing him apart.

This was behavior more common for Poison Ivy victims, not for the usually level-headed teen. Barbara studied the information displayed on the screen. The sensors in his suit showed that his health readings were slightly off from stress, but that was likely from pacing in a hospital. However, the sensors couldn't detect chemical imbalances, mind control, and other more subtle problems.

She could call someone from the JLA to take a look at him, but there's no way Tim would agree to having his brain scanned. Even if he wasn't under someone else's control.

Blue eyes darted to the clock again as if something on its face could help. "I can't just leave him…" He pleaded. How could you explain what it was like to be forced to wait when the one you love could be dying?

Barbara felt awful for what she said next, "Look, I don't mean to sound like a jerk here, but you have to be realistic. We don't have any proof that he's actually Jason."

Multiple emotions flitted across the boy's face; anger, acceptance, then sadness. "But the coffin was empty-"He suggested, the voice almost like a whimper. Even he knew that was a weak connection. His pacing stopped and he slumped against the wall, depression weighing him down.

She afraid for the boy she loved like a brother and didn't want to regret this later. "He's in room 206, third floor on the east wing. You can't miss it."

His blue eyes brightened instantly, and he darted in the room's direction. Oracle called after him "Hey! Change into civilian clothes before you get there!" The last thing they needed was a nurse catching the two off them.

...

The teen approached the motionless body carefully, as if a single wrong movement could undo whatever magic was holding them together.

Various machines beeped and blinked, giving the illusion that the injury was worse than it was. Jason was swathed in the usual clinical robes and thin sheets that the boy always found so foreboding before. Painkillers steadily dripped into his bloodstream from an IV.

He ran his fingertips over a bandaged forehead and brushed away a stray lock of hair. He was reminded of an old fairy tale. A great beauty was lulled into a face death by a poisoned apple, forever waiting true love's kiss.

_Was that what happened to you? _The questioned briefly, thinking back to the neglected grave. Was he the handsome prince what would awaken his true love and defeat the evil witch? Or was he like the dwarf? Doomed by fate to lose to the first stranger that walked by.

Very gently, he set aside the breathing mask over his face just long enough for a kiss. His were wonderfully warm and red, a sign that death wouldn't take him today. The man stirred slightly despite his medication. Tim thought he heard him mumble his name, but that might have been his imagination.

The would-be murderer was still out there and Robin would be ready.

The teen unfolded a package kept hidden in his cape to slide it under the man's pillow. It was taken before the police confiscated Red Hood's weapons, and Tim felt like he would need it.

He had spent the night running high on pain and adrenaline, exhaustion finally caught up with him. A nearby chair was pulled up and he decided to rest his eyes for a few minutes…

He felt a hand on his shoulder.

Tim jumped to his feet, willing himself into another fight.

"You're getting sloppy." Bruce said flatly and walked past him to the man on the bed. The teen cringed, he didn't even hear him walk in. He had been so caught up in his own problems that he didn't even consider what was going through the older detective's mind. His son, his greatest failure, was back from the dead as a spirit of vengeance.

Batman worked quickly and quietly, checking the man called 'Jason' for plastic surgery scars. He made notes about eye color and scar locations in a small notebook. "I want the full story, Tim." He ordered, taking a fingerprint pad out of his belt.

The teen shed all pretenses and confessed everything. He explained the guilt and the love for the former Robin, the promise he made and even mentioned the evidence he destroyed.

All the while, Bruce worked in silence.

Tim was finished and his mentor closed his notebook to ask "Does he know your full name?"

The teen shook his head and said "No"

"Did you give him any information he could use against us?"

"No"

"Did he make you act against your will?"

"No" The teen smiled a little, remembering how shy the man was at the beginning.

"And if I forbade you from further contact?" Tim's smile faded.

It was a possibility that hurt to consider. "I…I would thank you for all that you've done for me, and then I would leave." Being Robin meant so much to him, but the name was never really his. He wouldn't stray from the path of good or fight against his newfound family, but he needed to choose his own path.

Bruce seemed to consider this, recalling a distant son in Bludhaven. He took another glance at his notes and asked one more question. "What if I told you that he wasn't the real Jason?"

Tim's gaze waivered to the sleeping man, if it was an illusion, a clone, or some other trick… But the emotions plaguing him were as real as the air they breathe. It was a disappointment, but nothing changed. "My choice is the same."

"If he is a fake, then I can't find proof of it."

Tim could have squealed in joy.


	8. Chapter 8

(AN: This chapter is dedicated to FujimoriChikaru.)

Tim spent a good portion of his time dodging nurses and the occasional policeman. He didn't want to deal with their questions or anyone else's for that matter. Hours had passed since his lover's surgery and his muscles ached from waiting.

The paper cup of coffee was a balm from a night of fitful sleep. The watered-down substance tasted awful and it burned his throat, but just having it was a small shred of comfort.

The man beside was too still, he thought, and the teen grew more anxious as time passed. A part of him wanted to wake him just to see if he was alright. He finished the drink but the burn was still there.

…

Jason woke to the sound of bugs crawling in his brain. Weak arms pulled at handcuffs binding him to the bed. He could feel needles and tubes move in his skin as he struggled. Something covered his mouth and made him itch. Shapes blurred and danced in front of him.

The former Robin tore out the IV, fumbling to use the sharp edge to pick the lock.

Memories warped and skipped in his mind, playing like an old tape. There was a deep sense of anger and a sadness that he couldn't yet explain. While he could see the outline of a person he loved, but he hated the colors his eyes met.

A bullet rattled around in his head, clinking against the empty bone. "_Tommy_" He seethed, ripping away at the wires. Machines flat-lined and screamed that something had gone horribly wrong.

Strange hands were on him in an instant, holding him down and calling for someone to find a sedative. He fought them with everything he could muster and punched someone flat in the mouth.

Seeing who it was, his blood started to boil. _"You" _He seethed with hatred so deep it made the teen step back, _"You used me!" _The voice was thick-tongued and slurred from brain damage.

Tim had to stop him before he got hurt worse. "Jason, I don't want to hurt you but you have to-" The man roared, more animal than human now, and attacked blindly. He dove for the teen and heard a sick crack as Tim's head hit the wall. He went quiet as quickly as flipping a switch.

The half-dead monstrosity went quiet as he held his breath, waiting for the boy to get back up. The teen's face was blank and his blue eyes stared off at nothing. A look of horror stained his features. Minutes passed as nothing happened.

A shrill noise escaped his throat as he tentatively touched the boy's face and neck, hoping to stir a reaction. He became more frantic as he searched for a pulse that wasn't there. Fear, guilt, and shame overtook him as he gingerly scooped up the lifeless body in his arms. Speech was beyond him now, leaving him with only the ability to howl and cry at his lover's passing.

His hands were shaking as he noticed the gun beside him. A bitter voice inside his head encouraged him to use it. The voice had been there from the beginning, mocking him with every shortcoming. It reminded him of how he was thrown out of every family he'd ever known and ruined everything he came in contact with. It was because of _him_ that Tim was dead. _He _was the walking disappointment.

He had no one to blame but himself.

Shapes and colors throbbed in front of him as his head pounded in pain. He didn't want to hurt anymore and he didn't want anyone else to hurt because of him. The weapon was familiar and the barrel was cold against his bruised head.

The only comfort was that it was going to be over soon.

…

In the same room and yet in another world, Tim turned away from the sight of Jason sobbing in pain and was halted by a vision out of an old novel. Swathed in black robes, the figure was as cold and inevitable as the grave itself.

He watched the deity as dark smoke rolled off of him like fog, mystified and frightened by what he was seeing. Tim had always identified himself as a man of science, but he never doubted that this creature was a god.

Realization washed over him like a frigid wave crashing against the sand, he was here for Jason. "No…You can't take him! Not now!" The teen screeched in vain. The grim figure solemnly gave the man a weapon, the same gun he had hidden under Jason's pillow. "He will soon be free." It said.

"No…" He pleaded weakly. Tim's eyes wandered to the man he loved, his wounds were deep and oozed with infection. His movements were disjointed and clumsy. No matter what surgery he was given, they knew they could never stitch his mind back together.

Whatever part of his brain that made him Jason was nothing more than bleeding pulp at this point. The sobbing creature probably wouldn't recognize them anymore. What was left of the man would be placed in a long-term facility and everyone would just pretend that he never existed.

_I promised that I'd save you, but I didn't want it to happen like this. _The deity beside him was immune to his torment and once again urged euthanasia.

_This can't be happening, _the teen cried silently once again feeling that odd burn in his nose and throat. A conversation from a few days ago replayed in his mind _"You can tell Spooky that everything will be back on track…extra stuff for his whack-juice…"_

The revelation gave the teen a new sense of clarity, and he could see straw sticking out of Death's seams.

_Scarecrow._

Tim inched his fingers to a utility belt hidden under his shirt, he had to act quickly if this was going to work. He pricked his wrist on a needle, and trained not to react as the antidote cleared his veins. A smoke bomb blinded the so-called 'Reaper' and the teen dove for Jason. "No!" Scarecrow screamed in fury at he swung his scythe blindly in the dull-grey smoke.

The gun skittered across the ground as it was knocked away and the former Robin struggled against his opponent. The older man was made weak from medication, allowing a sharp needle to slip between his ribs. His vision clarified in moments and a thousand emotions swam over him when he saw the teen alive.

Tim kept his distance out of either fear or caution, uncertain what would happen next. They both looked down to the pain in Jason's chest to see his hand wrapped around the teen's. The syringe was yanked out without a word, the former Robin had expected to find a knife instead.

The teen could see his face clearly now, pleased that deep green eyes were clear and focused. "…Fear toxin" He explained hesitantly. He wanted to say something, anything, but now wasn't the time to beg for forgiveness.

"I thought I killed you." The older man said with regret in his voice, and Tim couldn't tell if it was for the imagined murder or the fact that it _was_ imaginary.

Before he could ask, Jonathan Crane slashed through the fading smoke to narrowly miss the teen's throat. Jason snapped forward to attack his former ally, triggered by an instinctive need to protect.

The attack was quick and decisive, with one hit disarming him and another to knock him unconscious. A pair of cuffs from a utility belt and the doctor was effectively chained to a radiator.

The silence weighed them down like concrete. Tim tucked a dark strand of hair behind his ear and tried to make conversation. "You seem to be doing well." His compliment was ignored as Jason found the misplaced handgun and hid it in the waistline of his pants.

The former Robin stepped out of the room and into a firing squad. Almost a dozen officers were waiting with rifles fixed on the vigilante, prepared to shoot at the slightest movement. James Gordon was at the rear demanding that he put his hands behind his head and get on his knees. His only options were to comply or be filled with lead.

Jason made a glance behind him, as if telling the teen not to interfere. One hand was raised in surrender as he shut the door behind him.

Tim had ducked back inside to hide from the commissioner and prayed Jason wouldn't do anything that would get him shot. The vents allowed him to watch as his lover was placed in handcuffs and led to another part of the hospital. Before he could think, a birdarang was in his hands and poised to strike.

Realizing what he was about to do, the weapon clattered to the ground as the full brunt of the situation hit him. He could no longer wrap himself in his tiny world and blind himself to the whole truth.

Jason was a murderer.

He had seen trucks on the highway explode in flames and the surviving drivers being gunned down in cold blood. He could neither deny nor sugar coat what happened. But he had also seen him reach out to save some nameless runaway, with no reason to and with no expectations of a reward. Spending years to train and prepare, only to toss it aside at the chance to save a lost soul.

Tim buried his face in his hands, not sure if he was describing the former Robin or himself anymore. He missed when the world was black-and-white.

Bruce and some of the older heroes would talk about _the line. _It was always there, the mark in the sand that no one must ever cross because they would never come back from it. The line that divided _good_ and _evil_.

Here the logic hit a snag, the reason they chose not to kill was _because_ people could change for the better.

A part of him wanted to make the leap and follow Jason down, if only to bring him back at his side. Even if he could convince him to come back, would anyone else accept him? Accept _them_?

Screams and gunshots knocked him out of his reverie. James' radio crackled to life with a distress call "John Doe has escaped and we have an officer in critical condition! Consider the suspect armed and highly dangerous, last seen moving north-!" More gunshots and then static over the airwaves.


End file.
